Love, Luna
by ForeverMartyr
Summary: After the war, close friends Neville and Luna write letters to each other of their new, peaceful lives: Neville is about to start his new position as Professor of Herbology, and Luna announces her engagement to Rolf Scamander. But when Luna's marriage begins unraveling, and trouble at Hogwarts strikes, their letters to each other may be the only thing keeping them sane—and alive.
1. Chapter 1 - Tea and Chocolate

**A/N:** I'm attempting another chapter story. I'm not particularly good at these, so we'll see where it goes. I'm going to try my best to finish it (eventually) but if all else fails, it's yet another sample of my writing. This chapter's a bit short and half-ass edited, but I really wanted to get it up. Whoop de doo.

And for the record, I've read all the books. I've seen the movies. I've done my research, and I know how everything ends up. But this is fanfiction. I'm gonna do what I want, and I can and will ignore everyone who says "that didn't happen in the book!" or "that's not the way JKR wanted it to end up!" Haters will be openly mocked, so check yourself before you wreck yourself.

For everyone else, enjoy.

x

**Love, Luna**

_Chapter One: Tea and Chocolate_

x

Neville Longbottom had chosen the wrong morning to use his mother's favorite china teacup.

It was an ordinary Saturday at first, a slight January chill creeping over the city of London. There was no part of him that wanted to push back the sheets and crawl out of the warm bed he shared with his longtime girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, but his growling stomach eventually won over him. Shuffling and shivering to the kitchen, he started a pot of tea, rummaging around for a pan in the cabinets. A tap on the apartment window alerted him that his sweet barn owl, Pomona, was delivering the mail, and he let her in with a smile.

"Thank you," he said, kindly ruffling her feathers. She hooted softly before flying to her cage in the corner of the room, settling down for a nice nap. Neville plopped the mail on the table, ignoring it for the time being as he began frying some eggs. He had come to realize over the years in their apartment that he liked the taste of food better without magic, and put some bread in the toaster for when Hannah awoke. Once his eggs were finished, he sat down at the table, thinking about his errands for the day. Hannah would go to work at the Leaky Cauldron, as she did every day, but since Neville still had holiday time off from training for his new position as Professor of Herbology in the fall, he figured he might scrounge the after-Christmas sales in Diagon Alley.

Yes, it was an ordinary Saturday morning, until he finally looked at the mail.

He sipped his chamomile, feeling the warmth spread to his fingers and toes. There was _The Daily Prophet_, as usual, the electric bill (silly Muggle apartments), the newest issue of _Herbologist Monthly_, a postcard from Hannah's parents traveling in sunny Australia, and—_there_.

Neville recognized the pale blue envelope right away, and smiled as he saw the swirly writing on the front bearing his name. He had been wondering and waiting when it would arrive, and eagerly tore open the flap on the back, sliding out a piece of paper in the same color.

_Dear Neville,_

_I hope you had a wonderful holiday! Paris is beautiful at Christmas, and you should absolutely try to see it someday. Rolf and I searched all over for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack (well…I searched, he followed), as it was believed to be last seen here in France, but to no avail. We did see a baby dragon exhibit, though. She was absolutely beautiful, but I do wish I could have set her free. I'll tell you more when I see you._

_Speaking of which, Rolf and I have some exciting news to tell you. Are you free this afternoon around four o'clock? Florean Fortescue's son re-opened the parlor in honor of his father, and I heard rumors of an amazing hot chocolate, so if you are indeed free, please send Pomona back with your reply, and Rolf and I will see you there! Hannah is invited too, of course. _

_Love,_

_Luna_

Neville read the letter over three times, not caring in the slightest that his eggs were getting cold. Luna Lovegood had been his best friend since their Hogwarts days, and they had spent many a time together talking about their secrets, their dreams, and as the days grew darker, what they would do if they survived the war. But since she had started seeing Rolf Scamander about a year ago, she had barely seen Neville at all, and their long talks had been restricted to letters. Not that Neville minded; he loved getting mail, especially from her. Now, however, Luna had spent the holiday in Paris, and they had news to tell him? That could only mean…

_CRASH!_

The cup of tea he'd been drinking out of had slipped out of his hand and shattered on the white tile floor, spilling tea everywhere. Swearing to himself, he scrambled for his wand to clean up the mess, surprised at his own shaking voice as he muttered the spells. The teacup was as good as new, but he still felt awful as he delicately placed it back in the glass cabinet.

"What was that, dear?"

Neville jumped in surprise, not knowing Hannah had entered the kitchen. Her blonde hair was slightly disheveled, but her eyes were soft, and Neville found himself relaxing.

"Nothing, I just tripped. I hope I didn't wake you."

She yawned and gave a small stretch. "It did, but I wanted to get up anyway. You haven't made me strawberry pancakes in _ages_." She smiled, and Neville couldn't help but return it. Something about Hannah's soft disposition always found a way to keep him at ease, instead of lapsing into the worrying state of mind he used to have.

"As long as I don't break anything else, I think I can manage," he said, starting to clear off the kitchen table, but Hannah caught sight of the blue envelope before he could brush it away.

"What's this?" she asked, plucking it from the pile curiously.

Neville's face turned pink. His girlfriend was completely understanding of his close friendship with Luna, yet he tried not to mention it too much. Hannah was not the jealous type at all, but he didn't want her feeling as though she had to fight for his attention.

"This? Oh." Neville slid the letter back in the envelope. "Luna and Rolf are back from holiday, and they invited us out this afternoon. She said they have…news."

Hannah's eyebrows arched, her eyes sparkling. "Really? Do you think they…"

"I don't know," Neville interrupted, perhaps a little more harshly than he should have. He sighed upon seeing Hannah's slightly taken aback expression. "Sorry. It just came as a surprise to me, too."

She brushed it off with a shrug. "Okay. If I get out on time, I'll join you. Now…" She planted a kiss on his cheek and smiled. "If you clear off the table, I'll go ahead and take out the skillet, and you can pay me back by making those pancakes."

"Oh, all right. You win." Neville smiled and put the mail in their bedroom. He slipped the letter into a magical hidden drawer in his dresser, taking one last look at the small collection of colorful envelopes. Sighing, and feeling guilty for the umpteenth time in this short morning, he joined Hannah in the kitchen.

Luckily for Neville, the easygoing dynamic he had with Hannah made him forget all about the letter. She turned on the radio and danced around him as he flipped the pancakes, laughing as one splattered on the floor. He replied in kind by attempting to toss smaller strawberries down the shirt of her pajamas, cheering when he succeeded. By the time they finished eating, the kitchen was a complete mess, and both of them had flour and syrup in their hair, but they didn't mind. It was times like this that Neville realized how grateful he was to have Hannah in his life. She made everything so simple, so worthwhile.

For anyone else, there could be nothing more to ask for. But for Neville, someone who had suffered and changed so much in his lifetime, he could only wish that he could give Hannah everything she truly deserved.

After showering, dressing, and a long goodbye kiss, Hannah left for the Leaky Cauldron, and Neville woke up a disgruntled Pomona in her cage.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I just need one thing, okay? Please?"

She complied and emerged from her cage, but not without staring at him blankly for a few moments. He quickly scribbled:

_Luna,_

_Yes, we would love to meet you at Fortescue's later._

_Neville_

He made a makeshift envelope with another piece of paper and tucked the note inside, writing Luna's name on the front and handing it to his owl. Despite him thanking her, Pomona was still not happy about being woken up from her nap, but left the apartment anyway, out of sight in the high clouds. Neville sighed as he watched her go, wondering what on earth he had just agreed to.

x

It began to snow as Neville made his way through Diagon Alley at a quarter to four, his arms laden with more supplies than he thought he was going to buy. Professor McGonagall, now headmistress, had sent him a list of necessities, and the discounts were too great to pass up. As he shifted textbooks from one arm to the other, he made a mental note to ask his friend Hermione Granger the charm for fitting so many things in a small bag, something he had always marveled at.

Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, since the war, had been reconstructed, with a painting of Florean on the new sign. Neville shivered as he entered, the bell tinkling above his head. It was surprisingly crowded for winter, but if what Luna had said about the hot chocolate was true, then it would make perfect sense. He made his way to a table in the back, big enough for four if Hannah could get a small break to meet them, and waited.

"Can I get you something?" A teenage girl in the most ridiculous pink-and-purple uniform came up to him, smiling. Unprepared, Neville looked at the menu on the table, the wide variety of drinks and desserts overwhelming him.

"Erm. Yeah. I'll have…uh…"

"Hot chocolate?" The girl's pearly whites were gleaming at him. "Seems to be a favorite today. If you haven't visited since the reopening, it's a good place to start."

Neville couldn't help it; he grinned back at her. "Sure. And this pound cake sounds good too, if you wouldn't mind?"

The waitress nodded and jotted down his order, rushing back to the kitchens. Neville settled down and actually looked at the menu. Apart from ice cream, which is what the parlor was originally famous for, the owner's son had added a plethora of warm, sugary snacks, which also explained the crowd. With a cold wintry day like this, they would make a ton of business.

Neville's eyes shot up as he heard the bells above the door ring once more, and he craned his neck to see over the mass of people. And there, amongst the mass of shoppers from Diagon Alley, holding hands and laughing, were Rolf and Luna.

And Merlin's beard, Neville couldn't remember the last time he saw her looking so happy. Her long blonde hair was partially tucked under a blue knit cap, contrasting with her green scarf and pink coat. Over the years, Luna's taste in fashion had calmed considerably, but she still enjoyed anything out of the ordinary. He could see her grey eyes sparkling from across the room as she spotted him, waving frantically.

"Neville!" she squealed as she finally managed to pull Rolf toward the table, throwing her arms around her friend and causing him to stumble backwards. He laughed as her hair tickled his face, smelling faintly of fresh mint, just as it always had.

"It's good to see you," he replied, struggling to stand after her minor attack. Luna was still grinning as she pulled away from him, stuffing her gloves in the pocket of her coat.

"I was hoping we'd even make it to Diagon Alley. The snow is really coming down." She turned her attention to the man standing next to her. "Rolf, you remember Neville, don't you?"

In all the excitement, Neville had nearly forgotten why she had invited him there in the first place, and his heart sunk slightly. He kept his smile, though, as Rolf outstretched a hand.

"Yes, of course," Rolf answered. Neville tried not to react at the firm handshake, which seemed to match Rolf's personality. He was tall and chiseled, with tight brown curls and blue eyes, though they were not as warm as Luna's. They had met several times before, and each time, Neville couldn't help but wonder why in the world Luna had chosen this man.

_If she's happy_—Neville had to bitterly remind himself—_so am I. _

The waitress returned with Neville's order, thankfully interrupting what could have been a very awkward situation. Luna ordered a hot chocolate as well, while Rolf stiffly asked for a coffee, black.

Neville sat alone in a chair across from the couple, cutting up his pound cake into small pieces to distract himself. "So…what did you do in Paris?"

Instantly he regretted his question, as Luna giggled, cheeks pink. "Explored the city, mostly, both the Muggle and magical parts. French wizards sure are interesting." She turned to the man next to her and smiled. "Rolf, remember when that one witch tried to convince us she was selling all those 'rare herbs' that turned out to be crushed-up maple leaves in vinegar?"

It came as a slight shock to Neville when Rolf gave a small smile; it reminded him of a stone cracking. "She was quite the character."

Neville forced a laugh. "Sounds like you had a good time."

Luna nodded eagerly. The waitress returned to the table yet again, and Neville thought Luna was going to spill her drink from excitement. To avoid the same fate for himself, he took a long swig of hot chocolate, but in his haste, forgot how _hot_ it actually was, and began coughing at his burning throat.

_Great. Now Rolf thinks I'm a klutz _and_ an idiot._

"Are you okay, Neville?" Luna asked, her face apologetic. Rolf said nothing, but arched an eyebrow and took a small sip of his own coffee, which only made Neville's face redden further. He could only nod and swallow a piece of cake to ease his scalding insides.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," he said quietly, clutching his small fork in embarrassment.

Luna gave him a soft smile. "In that case…we have something to tell you." Her eyes flashed to Rolf again. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

Neville was irked by Rolf's blank stare back at her, but he said nothing. Rolf shrugged. "Go ahead, dear. I know you've been simply dying to share."

Luna looked back at Neville, overcome with giddiness. She flashed him her left hand, and there it was, the diamond ring.

"We're getting _married_!"

So. Neville had been right from the moment he read her letter that morning. He had watched Luna fall head over heels for Rolf through the past year, wondering when the day of their engagement would finally come. And now that it had, Neville wanted nothing more than to get up and leave Fortescue's without looking back.

"How _could_ you? How could you marry a man who will _never_ love you the way I do?"

Neville wanted to scream this across the table. But of course, out of respect, and being who he was, he held his tongue.

Instead, he took a gentler sip of his drink, forced a smile, and said, "That's wonderful."

Luna started chattering on about all the details that she'd already planned, but Neville paid little attention. Gods, there was absolutely _no way in hell_ he'd just admitted to himself he loved Luna. He had always felt a deep connection with her, but hardly dared to delve into it. Throughout their years at Hogwarts, they had formed a bond, a sort of quiet understanding, and for a time, he thought—or hoped, rather—that there was chemistry between them. But when she made no further move, Neville pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, and moved on, as she had. Unfortunately, despite his affection for sweet, kind Hannah, he knew deep down that she deserved better. His heart was, and now forever would be, torn in two.

For once in his life, he was glad Hannah was unable to keep her word and join them, as he couldn't bear the guilt he now felt. Neville went through the rest of the meeting with difficulty, faking laughs and smiles where appropriate, and promising to meet up again soon as they said their good-byes. Diagon Alley was nearly empty now, as the snow was starting to fall even more heavily, and Neville watched Rolf and Luna for a few moments as they strolled down the street, arm in arm, before Apparating out of sight. Despite the cold air and the lack of visibility, Neville stood outside the shop for a few moments, his head whirling.

Over the past few years, Neville had become quite good at hiding his struggling emotions. It seemed all he'd done during this time was fight the mix of anger, sadness, shame, and love that penetrated his mind on a daily basis. The two women he cared about the most, Luna and Hannah, were both worthy of complete and total happiness, yet he was unable to deliver it to either of them. And since he was a good man—he always had been—he would not give up now; he was a Gryffindor, brave and true, and was damn well going to make things right. But even though he knew this was the right thing to do, he could not stop the single tear that slipped from his eye.

Because even though Luna Lovegood had been his best friend since their days at Hogwarts, even though he wanted nothing more for her than the greatest joy imaginable, Neville Longbottom simply could not bear the thought of her walking down the aisle to a man that was not him.

x

_"If I don't say this now, I will surely break as I'm leaving the one I want to take. Forget the urgency, but hurry up and wait. My heart has started to separate." - The Fray_


	2. Chapter 2 - Forget-Me-Not

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. Expect them, as I do have a life outside of the internet. I had fun writing this exhausting, unbeta'd chapter, though, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

x

**Love, Luna**

_Chapter Two: Forget-Me-Not_

x

Even when everything else seemed to go wrong, Neville had always found comfort in spring. Back at Hogwarts, it was the time when many new plants begin to grow, and he'd spend hours in the greenhouses with special permission from Professor Sprout, poring over new leaves and flowers, a stack of five or six library books in his hand. If he'd endured a bout of teasing from the Slytherins, was thinking about his parents or Luna, or simply wanted an escape from the world, it was spring that saved him. It had always been his second chance, the opportunity to start over again.

But now, as he watched winter slowly melt into spring through his tiny apartment window, Neville felt absolutely miserable.

With preparation classes for the fall and so many errands to take care of, he barely had a moment's peace. Hannah was gone more often as well, since the Leaky Cauldron always became more popular in the warmer weather, and so their dwelling was empty more often than not. Neville felt like a ghost when he meandered through the rooms at night, unable to stop himself from wondering. Wondering what to do in his little spare time, wondering when Hannah would come home, wondering when he would finally stop feeling the urge to vomit when he kept seeing the wedding invitation on the refrigerator door.

_Luna A. Lovegood_

_and _

_Rolf N. Scamander_

_joyfully invite you to share in their happiness_

_as they unite in marriage_

_on Saturday, 26__th__ June at two o'clock_

_R.S.V.P. Regrets Only_

He'd read it so many times that he'd memorized every line, every carefully sketched letter. Accepting that Luna had moved on from their Hogwarts days and found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with was a tough reality for Neville, but damn it, he didn't have a choice in the matter. Well—he frequently thought to himself bitterly—he _did_, but telling Luna what he really thought would break her heart, and that was absolutely not an option.

So, Neville simply continued to do what he did best: keep his thoughts to himself, and fight his battles on the inside.

If Hannah knew what was going on inside Neville's head, she certainly didn't show it, and he was grateful for this. Were he going through the turmoil alone, he wasn't sure how he would handle it. But even if Hannah crawled in bed at three in the morning, she still pressed her warm body to him in comfort, and he relished her presence. He could only hope that once June 26th came and went, he would finally sort out his mind for good.

x

It was, without a doubt, the most perfect day imaginable for a wedding. The early summer breeze ruffled the new green leaves, standing out against the cloudless cerulean sky. Behind an enormous white reception hall—paid in full by Rolf's wealthy family—stood a small gazebo, with about a hundred white chairs in rows facing it. Each blade of grass looked as though it had been individually trimmed, and the aisle had been strewn with soft white rose petals. As people found their way towards a seat, chattering happily, there seemed to be absolutely nothing out of place, nothing missing. It was simply…perfect.

And yet, as Neville overlooked the setup from inside the reception hall, he wanted nothing more than to turn and run as fast as he could.

He fidgeted with his bow tie in the bathroom mirror for the umpteenth time, waiting as long as he could before he had to head downstairs to the ceremony. Hannah was waiting patiently for him in the lobby, but he was finding it difficult to unglue his feet from the tile floor. He took deep breaths, but his attempts to relax were in vain. A knock at the door startled him, and he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

"Be out in a minute," he called out, his voice shaking more than he realized. Whoever was on the other side of the door took no notice, however, and barged right through the door that Neville had forgotten to lock.

"Ginny! What the—this is the _men's room_—"

"Oh, be quiet Neville. At least your pants are on."

Ginny Weasley stood in front of him, her wand pointed at the now-open door, and a mixed look of anger and curiosity upon her face. Despite her hidden exhaustion in the small circles under her eyes and the magically altered black-and-white dress over her very pregnant belly, she was still as fierce as she had been in their school days. She tucked her wand in the bouquet of lilacs that had been given to the rest of the bridesmaids, and put her hands on her hips.

"Would you like to tell me what on earth you're doing in the bathroom? The ceremony starts in ten minutes." Her eyebrows were narrowed, but she wasn't shouting…yet.

Neville shrugged. "I could ask you the same question."

She held her firm expression, ignoring his retaliation. "You can't hide up here forever, you know."

A spark of guilt ignited within him again, but he pushed it aside, averting his eyes from Ginny's. "What happens if I do, Gin? What happens if I decide that I can't do this? What if—?"

She held up a hand, silencing him. Her face relaxed and her tone quieted, but it didn't make him feel any more at ease. "Listen to me. You're her best friend. You were there for her at a time when no one else was, and for that, she has been loving and loyal to you, and will continue to be for as long as she lives. You _have_ to be happy for her, Neville. If you truly love her the way I know you do…you'll let her go."

He stood dumbstruck for a moment, and even though he hated to admit it to himself, he knew she was right. He had bonded with Ginny during their times in the DA, and she had been the first one he told of his affections for Luna so many years ago. She had encouraged him tremendously, but he never found the willpower to tell Luna how he felt. Ginny was one of the few people who could see right through Neville, and whether he liked it or not, she had the ability to see what was best for him, even if he couldn't. And now, as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, he knew he had to oblige.

"I don't want to lose her," he was finally able to stammer in reply.

"I know. And so long as you respect her wishes, you won't."

Neville just nodded, his heart heavy. Ginny gave him a small, apologetic smile. "Come on. This is a wedding! It's supposed to be fun. And I heard Rolf's father is hilarious when drunk, so at least we will have something to laugh at later." She gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze and quickly fixed his tie. "I'll see you down there, okay?"

Regardless of the distraught feelings in the pit of his stomach, Neville managed to crack a small smile. "Okay."

Ginny left to join the bridesmaids, leaving Neville to ponder everything she had just said. With one last deep breath, Neville hurried down the stairs to find Hannah standing by the back door of the hall, peering out at the setup. She was absolutely ravishing in a mint green strapless dress, flowing gently in the soft wind. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, her eyes sparkling.

"_There_ you are!" she exclaimed. "I was beginning to worry about you."

Neville couldn't help but let his smile grow wider at her sweet concern. "Shall we?" he stated, proffering his arm to her. Hannah giggled and took his elbow as they headed down the aisle together, looking for a seat. He tried his best to let the dozens of staring faces blend together and instead focused on his gorgeous, wonderful, lovely Hannah.

There were still a few empty chairs in the third row, behind their good friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Neville had attended both of their weddings in the past few years, and since both their wives were in the wedding party, the two were acting in their usual goofy manners. Harry was laughing at something Ron had said, and slapped the redhead on the back in return. Neville felt his nerves ease little by little.

_Maybe I _can_ do this._

"Hey, Neville!" Harry greeted him as the two of them sat down. "Hannah, good to see you. Glad you could make it."

Ron nodded in agreement. "We haven't seen you both since—when, Harry? My birthday? Three months too long, mate."

Neville laughed. "I'm surprised you even remember, Ron. You had far too much firewhiskey for your own good."

Ron shrugged. "What can I say? A man deserves to have a bit of freedom every now and then."

"You got that right," Harry chimed in. "Do you know how many food transformation spells I've had to do at four in the morning? If this baby eats as much as Ginny does, I'm going to run out of stuff to Transfigure—"

Harry's statement was cut short as the small band next to the gazebo began playing the soft march, and the entire company hushed immediately. Neville turned his head around to the doorway, where he could see the silhouettes of the party lined up in the darkness.

The wedding had begun.

x

_Beautiful_.

That was the one word, the only word, the _perfect_ word Neville could think of when he saw Luna.

After the four bridesmaids and groomsmen emerged from the hall and took their place on either side of the gazebo, Luna stepped out with her hand on her father's arm. She had strayed from tradition and donned a light purple gown with a long train. Strands of her hair had been intertwined with small white flowers, tumbling down her back like golden waves. Her face was partially covered by a white birdcage veil, but her smile was radiant beneath it. Were he standing, Neville's knees might have buckled underneath him. He heard Hannah's small gasp of amazement next to him, and felt her fingers squeeze his own.

Neville watched with mixed emotions as Luna's father walked her down the aisle, kissing her on the cheek before taking his seat in the first row. Yet again, it was odd for Neville to see Rolf smile, but the groom-to-be seemed nothing but happy as he helped Luna into the gazebo. The minister took his place behind the couple and began the standard greetings.

"Dearly beloved," he began, pleasantly looking out at the audience. "We have gathered here today to celebrate this man and this woman as they join together in holy matrimony."

And so he continued, telling Luna and Rolf of their duties and pleasures that came along with marriage, but Neville hardly paid any attention. He felt as though he had heard these statements numerous times in the past few years, attending the weddings of so many of his Hogwarts friends. And yet, here he was with his girlfriend, having no plans for the future other than becoming a professor. He was lucky for having achieved his dream at so young. But as he looked around, seeing all his friends who were happily married, some of whom had children already, he couldn't help but wonder whether he was truly achieving everything he ever wanted.

His eyes flickered to Hannah. This wasn't fair to her in the slightest. Yes, he cared for her deeply, as though she were his own family. But as Neville saw all of his married friends—the way Ron and Harry stared at their wives in their beautiful gowns, the connection between Rolf and Luna—he knew that it wasn't enough, and it never would be.

Neville's attention turned back to the newlyweds as they exchanged their "I dos," the undeniable love between them radiating through the entire audience. When the minister announced their husband and wife status, Rolf bent Luna down and kissed her, the company roaring in applause. Hannah let go of Neville's hand to clap wildly along with everyone else, and Neville only did the same out of respect, though his heart was breaking.

In a near trance-like state, Neville stood and followed Hannah down the aisle once the wedding party had cleared. He let out a deep breath; the hardest part was over, and hopefully the reception would fly by so he could just collapse in his warm bed at home and pretend like the day never happened.

The beautiful reception hall had been decorated with the same purple and white colors that had been displayed at the ceremony. A small band was busy tuning in the corner, and caterers were buzzing around, offering people strange hors d'oeuvres on shiny silver platters. It was all so strange to Neville, and as he meandered around, meeting various members of the couple's family, he felt as though he were in a movie, in an alternate reality.

After two hours of mindless chatter and eating rather interesting, albeit delicious, plates of food, the dance floor opened. It was the longest seven minutes of Neville's life, watching Luna share her first dance with Rolf and then with her father, but with the three glasses of champagne he'd already finished, he managed to hold himself together. Once the band struck up a few faster tunes, he was able to let go, dancing with Hannah, the Potters, and the Weasleys, along with a few other Hogwarts friends. It _was_ fun, he had to admit to himself, and since Luna was so busy entertaining the multitude of guests, he didn't have the visual reminder of why he was really there.

Midway through the party, the band began playing a much slower song, and Neville was taken aback at the low, rumbling voice of the lead singer echoing through the room.

"All right, folks, time to slow things down. This one is for all you lovers on the dance floor."

Merlin's beard, he'd hoped to avoid this at all costs. But as Hannah sweetly grabbed his hand and brought him to the center of the dance floor, he found it impossible to say no.

"I love this song. Don't you?" she said quietly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her face merely inches away from his.

Neville just nodded, forcing himself to keep his eyes on his girlfriend, and not at the swirling lilac dress to his left. He put his hands on Hannah's hips and responded, "Umm. Yeah. I haven't heard it in some time, though."

She moved closer to him as they swayed to the beat of the cheesy couple's song, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. "What a beautiful wedding," Hannah murmured. "I hope to have one like this someday."

Neville found it difficult to ignore her subtle hints. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry and Ginny together, giggling as they were attempting to find a way to dance with their unborn child in the way. Ginny couldn't even reach her arms to Harry's shoulders, and so Harry held her from the side, Ginny's head resting in the crook of his neck. Neville had lived with Harry for six years in Hogwarts, and he knew from early on that he and Ginny were a perfect match. He remembered his own early crush on the Weasley girl; she was kind but fierce, understanding, determined. They made a great pair, and Neville envied it. As his gaze flickered back to Harry and Ginny, and Rolf and Luna, Hannah's presence on his body suddenly felt like a giant weight, and couldn't help but wonder what would become of them.

When the song ended, Hannah looked up at him and smiled. "I'm going to order another drink," she said. "Would you like one?"

Neville shook his head, but her gentle offering did not go unnoticed. She was so good to him, and he didn't deserve her.

As he watched Hannah walk away, almost floating in her soft dress, Neville felt a tap on his shoulder as the faster dance music resumed. He turned around to see Luna, having broken away from her husband, and was beckoning for Neville to follow her. Confused but intrigued, he wormed his way through the dance floor and found her outside in the growing twilight, sitting on a white marble bench.

"Luna?" he questioned, but she did not turn her head to look at him.

"The venue is magnificent, isn't it?" she mused, her gaze fixated on the shimmering lake.

Neville sat beside Luna, looking at her with one eyebrow raised. "I don't understand," he said. "Don't you want to go back to the wedding?"

Luna shrugged, finally turning to look at him. Her face was soft, but not entirely content. "If it's my wedding, am I not allowed to do what I want?"

"I suppose…" he responded slowly. They sat in the silence for about a minute, before she finally smiled and broke it.

"I'm really glad you came, Neville," she said quietly.

Neville couldn't help but give a small laugh. "Of course I would. You're my best friend. I'm…I'm so happy for you. I hope you have a wonderful life together. You deserve it. You're the most amazing girl—woman—I've ever known." He noticed he was rambling, and stopped short, embarrassed.

"You're too kind." She turned her head back to the lake, and Neville could only pray that she didn't hear how difficult it was for him to say those words. Luna watched the fireflies dance in front of her, not turning back to look at him when she spoke again.

"I want you to promise me something."

He was taken aback for a moment, but he would give Luna the world if she asked for it. "Anything."

It took Luna a moment before answering, as though she was struggling to find the right words. "Don't stop writing to me. Don't forget me."

Neville just stared at her, surprised. "Luna, what—"

"I'm leaving," she interrupted him, finally able to look directly in his eyes. "After the honeymoon. We're traveling the world for about a year before we settle down. I haven't told anyone yet."

He had certainly not been expecting this, and it took all of his control to stop his mouth from falling open, dumbstruck. "I don't believe it…" he said quietly. "Just like that? You're leaving? I'm not going to see you for a whole year?"

She did not answer this, but instead reminded him of the promise he had made. "I love your letters, Neville," Luna replied. "I'm going to be homesick, so I want to know everything that's going on, okay?"

Neville wanted so badly to say no, to beg her to stay, to hold her and be with her and keep her by his side. And even though it was hard to admit, he knew that her fate did not entirely reside with him anymore. She had found the man of her dreams, the way she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Ginny had been right; Neville was going to have to sacrifice what he felt in order to ensure Luna's happiness. With a long sigh, he put his hand on hers, squeezing it, and she smiled.

"Okay."

x

After the party ended at half-past eleven, Neville and Hannah said goodbye to all their friends, congratulated Luna and Rolf one more time, and headed home, exhausted. While Hannah immediately changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed, Neville headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he wouldn't be able to sleep either way.

Less than ten minutes after they'd arrived home, Hannah padded into the kitchen, yawning. "Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked, noticing he was still fully dressed in his suit.

"I will soon," he answered.

She gave a small stretch, which Neville had to admit was rather cute, and kissed him on the forehead. "M'kay. I'll probably be asleep when you come in, so goodnight."

"Night, Hannah." His soft tone surprised him as she left, his own fatigue taking over. As he waited for his cup of green tea to cool, he stared out the window at the nighttime cityscape. Regardless of the dozens of lights shining from streetlamps, from cars and bridges, and the warm body awaiting him in the bedroom, he felt extremely alone.

Once he'd taken a few sips, feeling only slightly calmer, he went to the bedroom. Hannah was already in a deep slumber, her messy curls spread across their two pillows. Neville just shook his head in slight amusement, and lit a small lamp on his desk so as not to disturb her. Upon the desk was a long piece of parchment and a quill, as he'd been meaning to make a list of the things he still needed to accomplish between now and late August, but he'd kept putting it off. With another long draught of tea, he picked up the quill in his hand, dipped it in the ink, and began writing.

_Dear Luna…_

Neville wasn't one to break his promises. Throughout his years at Hogwarts, and fighting in the war, he'd learned so much more than just spells and potions. Looking back, he'd changed so much from the shy first-year boy who constantly lost his toad into a true hero, according to what McGonagall had said to him on his final day of school. A true soldier, he'd realized, fought not because he hated what was in front of him, but because he loved what was behind him. And even now, with the war over, Neville was still a soldier, fighting to maintain what was right and what was real. If this was the way life was going to be, then so be it. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the people he loved, for the people he fought for…for Luna.

Nearly an hour and a foot of parchment later, Neville signed the parchment and folded it into an envelope, sealing the back. But instead of bringing it to the kitchen table for Pomona to take when she returned, he thought better of it, and slipped it into the hidden desk drawer. He had a strange feeling about him that the right time would come to send it, but for now, it could be safe in the back of his mind.

After blowing out the lamp and undressing, Neville slipped in bed next to Hannah, holding her sleeping body close to his, and within a few minutes, drifted off, his cup of tea forgotten on the desk.

x

"'_Cause I don't want to lose you now. I'm looking right at the other half of me. The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold." –Justin Timberlake _


	3. Chapter 3 - These Little Things

**A/N: **Don't worry, I didn't forget about this story. Life's a little hectic and full of nargles, that's all.

****x

**Love, Luna**

_Chapter Three: These Little Things_

x

Many miles away from the Longbottom-Abbott residence sat a run-down, beaten house the color of storm clouds. It sagged into its foundation, the way an old mattress does after many years of exhaustion. The house stuck out like a sore thumb on a street of perfect cookie-cutter residences, and it may have been pretty like the rest at some point, but all kinds of wear and tear had resulted in dozens of paint chips missing, shingles half-hanging from the window, and a crumbling walkway.

It was clear that whoever lived here was as unhappy as the house itself, and today was no different, as shouts of all kinds ricocheted around the kitchen.

"Briar! Briar, show some respect and _look_ at me when I'm talking to you!"

The girl called Briar, nearly seventeen, looked through her curtain of short, straight black hair at the woman across the counter. The woman's lips pursed at her satisfaction, the scraggly red hair pouring down her back and her brown eyes bearing no resemblance to the teen's.

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times," the woman said, agitated, "do _not_ leave your Hogwarts stuff laying around where the other kids can get into it!"

As she said this, twin boys around the age of five were running around the living room, screaming and throwing things at each other, which resulted in Briar having to raise her voice to respond, rolling her icy blue eyes.

"I don't see why I have to go back to school for my last year when I'm of age on September twelfth, anyway—"

But the woman interrupted by nearly shouting herself. "You'll do it because you won't get a job and get out of this house, and because I said so, that's why."

This struck something deep inside Briar, and she narrowed her gaze. "You're _not_ my mother," she said quietly, but the woman still heard her, her face angry as she flicked her wand towards the sink, the pots magically cleaning themselves.

"You're damn right I'm not. The government doesn't pay me nearly enough to take care of you and six other brats until you're of age. But I promise you, when the last day of your seventh year comes around, you're out."

Briar rolled her eyes. "Can't wait."

The woman bellowed several more words at her, but the girl didn't pay any attention as she scooped up two textbooks, three quills, and several pieces of parchment from the floor where the twins had trampled it. Storming up the stairs, she slammed the creaky door of her bedroom behind her, letting out a long sigh as all noise was blocked—for the time being, anyway.

She let her hair fall in her face as she shoved the supplies into a cardboard box under her bed, which held her unfinished homework (which would remain that way), her slightly curved wand (which she so desperately wanted to use), and the rest of her books (which she hadn't bothered to open). After kicking the box back under the bed, the young witch sat on the wrinkled sheets, eyes narrowed. She _hated_ this house. She hated it with every fiber of her being, and being stuck here, forced to be "happy" in the eyes of the government was something she had certainly not wanted for herself. When she was moved out of the orphanage at the age of eight to live with the foster parents, she had a flicker of hope that she would actually have a family for the first time in her life.

But she had never been so wrong. She'd found out long ago that Brenda and Stephan were only in it because the seven kids were giant moneymakers. And with all of them being wizards, there was always stress, always accidental underage magic happening under the roof. Briar was mentally counting down the days she could pack her things for good and get the hell out.

In the midst of her frustration, her eyes caught a faded blue notebook on the floor, something she'd picked up at a Muggle thrift shop a while back. When she had anger towards her screwed-up family situation, the classes at school, or struggling to piece together her past, she'd scribble it down in the pages. But now, when her eye caught sight of it, a small smile flickered across her face. She picked it up and let it fall open to the middle, where she'd tucked a battered photograph in the crease.

The moving picture displayed a woman in an Azkaban uniform, leering at the camera. Her untamed curly hair stuck out at odd angles, and her taunting eyes lacked warmth. An air of superiority and amusement radiated off her expression and pose, and to the ordinary man, she would have been very frightening indeed.

Briar, however, was not ordinary.

With a final grin, she carefully closed the book and tucked it inside the box to take back to Hogwarts, the woman's picture etched very clearly in her mind.

x

_Dear Luna,_

_I couldn't sleep for the longest time, and even though it was nearly four o'clock in the morning and I could hear the first of the birds making noise outside the window, I wasn't the least bit tired. You asked me to keep writing you letters, so here I am._

_It's on these awful, sleepless nights that I have so many questions in my head. I'm afraid of the future, Luna. I'm afraid of the past. What if nothing works out the way it should?_

_Neville_

x

_Brrring!_

Neville sat up with a jolt and looked at the clock. August sixth, 2:17 A.M.

_Brrring!_

He fumbled for his wand on the bedside table, muttering "_Lumos_" under his breath, and picked up the telephone. He didn't see a need for the infernal machine, but Hannah had insisted on installing one so she could contact the Muggle side of her family, who had been quite terrified at the first owl that landed on their windowsill, and refused to correspond in that manner afterwards.

_Brri—_"Hmm…hello?"

"Neville? Neville, it's Ron. Listen, mate, I'm sorry for the timing, but it's faster than an owl, and Ginny's in labor _now_."

Neville was instantly awake. "What?"

"Yeah, she wants you down here. She screamed something about her closest friends before they shoved ice chips in her mouth and pushed her away. I dunno man, she's pretty persistent even _without_ a human inside her stomach, and if I were you, I wouldn't ignore her demands."

Neville ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Okay, I'll be right there."

"Room 204," Ron said, before hanging up. Neville put the phone down and started to push the sheets off him, but paused when he heard Hannah stir.

"Hey…" she whispered softly, still in a half-asleep state, and Neville would be damned if it wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "What's going on?"

"Ginny's having the baby," Neville responded, pulling on a pair of socks. "I'm headed down to St. Mungo's. Go back to sleep, dear."

She stared up at him blearily, a tiny smile on her face in the faint wandlight. "Wake me when you get home," she murmured before turning back over.

Neville couldn't help but smile back at her, leaning over to kiss her forehead as she drifted back off.

"I will."

Not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, Neville threw on a jacket in case it was cooler in the waiting room and flew out the door, running the several hundred feet to the lamp post at the end of the block and Apparated instantly.

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was disguised cleverly inside an old Muggle building, and Neville couldn't help but shiver as he passed through the barrier. Even after more than twenty years of visiting, he never forgot how cold it seemed, how there seemed to be shadows following him on the stark white walls of the corridor. Yet, he tried to remind himself that he was here for a happier occasion, and swallowed his fear as he found his way to room 204 in the maternity ward.

It was quite a hysterical sight, Neville thought to himself, as he found six Weasleys sprawled on the floor, couches, and chairs in the waiting room. Neville's heart rose slightly when he spotted a platinum blonde mass of hair amongst the red. Luna was sitting on the floor, talking quietly to Ron, who was quite pink in the ears.

"Hi," Neville interrupted, somewhat breathless. "How's it going?"

She turned to him and smiled, making his heart sink into his stomach. "Wonderfully," she said, "though Ron seems to be a bit more troubled than the rest of them."

Luna was right; Ron's face was ghostly white, contrasting enormously with his ears. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he murmured, letting his head fall into his hands. Neville knew all too well that out of all the Weasley brothers, Ron was the most protective of Ginny, and it was clear that he would take all of her pain in a heartbeat if he could.

"Do you want some coffee, Ron?" Luna asked kindly. "Tea?"

He didn't look up, but Neville could hear the word "tea" mumbled through his lips.

"I'll take a coffee, actually," said Arthur Weasley, who seemed beyond exhausted. "Black. The biggest size they have."

Luna stood up and stretched her legs, clearly having squatted against the wall for some time. "Anyone else?"

George requested a bottle of water, but the rest of them declined. Luna tilted her head towards Neville. "There's bound to be somewhere we can get drinks around here. Care for a walk, Neville?"

He nodded, as he would much rather meander around the hospital than sit and sink deeply into his own mind. Even though the maternity ward was slightly more comforting, the hospital still gave him the creeps, and any distraction was welcome. "There's a barista open twenty-four-seven on the main floor," he said, knowing it all too well.

As they walked towards the elevator, Neville snuck a glance at Luna and noticed she was still in her pajamas as well: pale green-and-white striped pants with a ludicrous pink polka dotted T-shirt. She hadn't even changed out of her slippers, which were shaped like enormous cows and had tinkling bells around their necks. Even in sleep, Luna's idea of fashion was rather obnoxious, but it somehow reassured him.

"I'm proud of you," she said quietly as she pressed the button for the main floor.

He looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"Because you're sacrificing your own comfort to support your friends," she replied. Luna's pale eyes shone at him as she spoke. "I know you carry bad memories with this place, and I know it's hard for you to come here. But the fact that you _did_—" she paused as the elevator halted and she stepped off into the lobby—"shows true strength."

Neville just shrugged, fighting the pink flush that was coming to his cheeks. After so many years, he'd overcome the initial shock of his brain-dead parents and now just felt a sense of numbness come over him. "It's okay," he muttered, half-lying. "It's not a big deal."

"But it is," Luna interjected, stepping in the line for coffee. "All the little things you do for people—you don't realize how much it really means to them. It's more than you know."

Neville stood in silence, pondering what she had just said as she moved forward to order the drinks. It may have only been his imagination racing, but he had the odd sensation that she was implying something.

Luna balanced two trays on her right arm and handed him a small chai tea. Neville sputtered a thank-you and reached in his pocket for a Sickle, but she shook her head. He sipped it carefully, tasting the perfect blend of a small bit of sugar and whole milk.

"You know my tea order?" he questioned as he took one of the trays from her arms.

"Don't sound so surprised," she joked. "Of course I do."

Neville just grinned behind the rim of his cup.

When they got back to the maternity ward, there were a significant amount of Weasleys missing. Only George, Percy, Bill, and Charlie remained, but they seemed much more relaxed than they were when Neville first arrived. George shakily took the water from Luna's tray, his face still pale but now tense-free.

"It's a boy," he said breathlessly, downing half the bottle in one gulp. Luna broke into a smile, and Neville felt his whole body relax.

"A boy?" he repeated. Neville tried to picture the baby, wondering whether he had inherited his mother's flaming red hair or his father's jet black, but the green eyes were inevitable.

Charlie, the oldest, nodded. "Dad and Ron are in there now. It's a bit crowded so we're taking turns."

Luna turned to Neville and chuckled. "Aren't you glad I bought you that tea now? Looks like we will be here for some time."

He just shook his head in disbelief, mirroring her expression. As the minutes ticked by, the family members were let in one by one, until only Neville and Luna remained, leaning against the whitewashed corridor.

"Can you even imagine this?" he said. "We're all grown up, getting married and having babies and whatnot."

Luna stole a sip of the last of his tea and shook her head. "I can't wait to have a real family," she said quietly. "Don't get me wrong, all of you are included, but I really want children of my own. I've always loved them."

Neville's eyes flickered to the enormous diamond on her left hand, finding it so easy to picture Luna as a mother. With her sweet, gentle temperament, she would raise them beautifully. At the thought of Rolf being the father, though, Neville's muscles clenched. He would never admit it, but he sensed deep within himself that Rolf would never be what she deserved.

Her next query surprised him. "What about you?" she asked. "You and Hannah are pretty serious."

Unsure of how to reply, he remained silent. "Umm…" he began. "Well, I—"

"Neville? Luna?" The exhausted face of Harry Potter poked through Ginny's door, and relief washed over Neville. "Do you want to come in?" The rest of the Weasley clan, apart from Ron, started to file out.

Still in slight shock from Luna's question, Neville found himself unable to answer, but she immediately jumped to it.

"Yes, we'd love to."

Neville struggled to his feet, leaving his empty cup on the floor, and followed Luna inside the room, not even realizing he was holding his breath.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione, looking tired but pleased, were sitting in chairs around Ginny's bed. The proud mother looked up at them as they entered, holding the swaddled baby carefully in her embrace. "Hi," she said, exasperated but content. "I'm glad you came."

"We wouldn't miss this for anything," Luna replied, standing next to her bed and peering into the blankets. "He looks like you, Harry. Neville, come see."

Still standing awkwardly in the doorway, Neville obliged, moving next to Luna. She was right; the baby had a small tuft of black hair on his head. Finally regaining his voice, Neville said, "What's his name?"

"James," Ginny answered. "James Sirius Potter."

A chuckle escaped Neville's lips. "I couldn't think of a better name myself."

"Do you want to hold him?"

Neville was startled, not wanting to take the precious child out of his new mother's reach. "Oh, I don't know—"

"Oh, go ahead," Ginny interjected. "I'm tired, anyway." She shifted her body to hand the baby over to Neville, and he awkwardly, but very carefully, took little James in his arms.

It was like he escaped into some kind of dream as he looked down at this new life. Upon being handed over, the baby's eyes opened to indeed reveal the color green. James' face was so soft and innocent that it made Neville's entire body relax. Everything about him was tiny, from his eyelashes down to his little fingernails gripping the blanket. With Luna's presence next to him, Neville was entirely calm, only wishing that he could escape into the alternate reality he would never admit he wanted…

"He's beautiful," Luna said, interrupting Neville's thoughts. He carefully gave the baby back to Ginny, who was beginning to fall asleep in the bed. Ron had already nodded off with his head back in the chair, and Hermione had prominent dark circles under her eyes.

"We should go," Neville said, hoping it didn't sound too hurried. "We all need a bit of sleep."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, again, for coming," he yawned. "I'll send you an owl soon."

And with a few final, sleepy goodbyes, Neville and Luna were on their way out of St. Mungo's. Still getting over the intensity of his mind's travels, Neville didn't even notice the bleary hospital surroundings, only snapping out of it when the sticky August air hit him. When they got to a safe distance for Apparition, Luna turned to him.

"Goodnight, Neville," she said quietly. "I'm not sure when I will see you again, but I know you will have plenty to talk about as soon as you go back to Hogwarts, so I expect lots of letters." She smiled at him, and he felt that pit-of-his-stomach-heartache again.

"Yeah. Of—of course."

And then—unexpectedly—she embraced him.

Neville had hugged Luna on plenty of occasions, but something about this one struck him. Something about the way her body just folded into his, her familiar scent wafting up at him, and her slightly tangled blonde hair gave Neville an odd, but at ease, feeling. He wrapped his arms around her petite figure, unconsciously pulling her closer to him, begging to stay in her warmth and comfort for just a little while longer.

But before he knew it, she had let go.

"I'll see you soon. I promise."

Her voice was quiet.

"Okay."

And there she went again, Apparating into the night and leaving him alone in his heart and his mind.

x

_Dear Neville,_

_Here's a new question for you:_

_But what if it does?_

_Love,_

_Luna_

x

"_I'm amazing when you're beside me. I am so much more. And I feel your fingers pound like thunder, and I am so much more." –Matt Nathanson_


End file.
